Special Operations: Enduring Freedom
This story is based mostly in Helmand Province, Afghanistan and follows a squad of soldiers part of the US Army's 505th Infantry Unit taking part in operation Operation Achilles It is the first story in the Special Operations Series. '' spec ops.PNG '' =Part 1= Chapter-1-Welcome to Khost 11-00AM 2/7/2007 Cpl. Louis Jones South Eastern Khost Province, Afghanistan. __________________________________________________________________________________________________ The weather was strangely hot that day. The sun pounced down on the lieutenant’s face. He didn't seem to mind. I pushed hard down on the grips of my motorbike, trying to keep my balance. For two whole years, everyday seemed the same as this. Patrols through the mountains. But not on bikes. I had been recruited to MARSOC in December last year and spent most of the time operating in Farah until 2 operators were killed in Bala Baluk. According to our battalion's captain, they were training Afghan soldiers when of the ANA men shot them during patrol. After that incident, which took place only a few weeks ago, I was supposedly to be transferred from the 2nd Marine Special Operations Battalion, the company that the two dead soldiers were from, to the 505th Infantry Regiment. After hearing that I was pissed. Sure they were airborne, a reasonable level of elite, but nowhere near MARSOC. I looked around at the rest of the squad: five other soldiers, a Private First Class (PFC), Lance Corporal, Sergeant, another Private First Class and the lieutenant. Each one armed only with a quad/bike and a shotgun slung over their shoulder. I had heard of motorcycle squads in MARSOC, but never in the other units. But was that what we were? Was it only for transport? The lieutenant had said nothing on behalf of what we were doing. Moving on. The ground was dusty and flew in clouds by the force of the bikes. A sand dune popped up ahead, a mound of tiny particles. I turned left to steer away from it and failed. The back wheel of my quad raised up first and the rest jumped. Thmp. The stock of my 870 hit off my back as the bike landed roughly. The lieutenant turned his head. His eyes were hidden under a pair of sunglasses. "What a fucking shady..." It all seemed weird. I didn’t know who these people were. I had been taken from my former squad roughly 3 hours ago and was now driving dope-like through Khost Province. Despite my doubts, it was becoming more clear. The 505th. Was that what this was all about? It wasn’t rare to be transferred so suddenly these days. But nevertheless. The captain of my former company had ordered me to go with them. Fifteen minutes later, I had been given a Remington 870 MCS and a Kawasaki KLR650. The shotgun was given for 'protection' according to the lieutenant. But that wasn’t the only weapon I took. My M1911 was still holstered by my waist. The desert-like environment was now fading away and hints of greenery could be seen. A slope rose up to the left and climbed steadily westward. A faint road emerged in the mists of the dust, trailing into an unknown valley. One by one, the squad took the sudden path. A great shadow was cast over us. Slowly, the Lance Corporal pulled up beside my bike and started again. It was as if we were a convoy escorting an unknown subject. Our way of transport seemed pointless. Only now did I realise that a tank and 4 HMMWVs were driving behind us. A group of soldiers stood still watching us pass through. "Welcome to Khost." The Corporal said as he turned to me. I nodded, keeping my eyes on the road. The desert had ended and another cliff rose up on my right, closing in at the top and almost meeting the other one. It would have been dark as a cave in there if it hadn’t of been for the shade of light peeking in from the gap. The tank and HMMWVs were getting closer now. I gunner peeked up from one of the jeeps gun latch, aiming an M240 at the roof of the tunnel. Shouts met us from behind. I drove faster then, pushing through the lines of my group. More shouting. I turned to see the gunner aiming his weapon at the squad. He was laughing, pretending to shoot. "Cut it out before I unload a shell in your face!" The lieutenant shouted, still driving steadily. The gunner didn’t respond immediately, in actions or in words. A grin was spread across his face. The lieutenant spoke quietly, as if to himself: "Bravo Company this is Granite-1-1. We are un route to the FOB Salerno, 15 minutes." He said. He was, I now realised, talking through a radio. I turned back to the gunner. He was still standing still, still aiming his weapon. "Bitch..." The Corporal and I exchanged suspecting looks. "Probably another drunken asshole." I said. The Corporal laughed. It was an unusual chat, due to the fact that we were on bikes. I thought for a second he was going to shake my hand, but you'd need to be more than a paratrooper to do that mid-ride. "Time to teach him some trigger discipline, eh?" He said. I turned around again and noticed that the gunner's finger was clung around the gun's trigger. "Corporal Louis Jones." I said, introducing myself. He nodded and responded. "Lance Corporal Michael Burnes, pleasure to meet you Louis." I stared at him for a second and then grinned. "You fucking dumbass." I laughed, "What kind of dope are you? Speaking shit like that." I then put on a mock face and mimicked him in a 7-year-old tone. "Pleasure to meet you Louis!" He went blank. At one point I thought he was gonna ram me with his bike but was proved wrong. "Damn you got the shit right!" Said he, as we sped on. The cave suddenly became larger, growing outwards. Sunlight hit us and the roof opened. A group of soldiers were seen walking towards us, laughing and talking about our motorbikes. Every soldier within a mile of this base seemed to be on drugs. Our convoy left the cave and we entered a large valley. The ground was wet and fertile. It seemed to be a different world from the other side of the cave. The bikes slowed down and trotted on through the grass and mud. From behind us the tank emerged, roaring ahead. Smoke puffed from my Kawasaki as it struggled through the mud. We would of moved faster walking. Water squirted from under the wheels. The Kawasaki was digging deep into the mud. The lieutenant seemed to be having the same problem. He dismounted and raised his bike from the wet ground. Static came from his radio and he lowered his head to the receiver. "Finally..." He mumbled. A distant voice came from the radio. I couldn’t hear any of it. "Roger that---wait what?" I looked up suddenly. The lieutenant was pacing forward and back, nodding and mumbling into the receiver. "Roger. We'll go west and cross the slopes, that possible?" He was pacing quicker now. Far away in the distance and explosion rang out. The whole convoy looked up. "This is why they call the place rocket city." Burnes informed me. "Every fucking day there's a mortar attack." I sucked my teeth and nodded slowly. "Has there ever been a ground attack?" I asked, trying to block out the sounds of the explosions. "Few times." Burnes said. "Mainly city-born insurgent groups." We watched the sky carefully for another sign of a mortar. The lieutenant was still talking on the radio. He waited with his head still tilted towards the receiver. Another sound from the radio and then silence. "Who is that lieutenant anyway?" I asked. Burnes turned back to me. "That’s Lieutenant John Sanderson, we call him Sandy." He said. "He's the leader of our battalion, strange he came with us this time 'round." I waited for another explosion. BOOM! This time it seemed closer. "So what you brought me here for anyway?" I asked. "You're Captain not tell you?" Said Burnes. "You've just been recruited to The 505th Infantry Regiment. You're a para now." So it was true. Only 3 months I had been in MARSOC, but it was over now. And when I ever took paratrooper training? It didn’t seem to fit in. "Hey! 'nough chit chat." The lieutenant said, turning to us. The tank and HMMWVs were now grouped together, their occupants were exciting. "As you probably know by now, the FOB is under attack." The soldiers exchanged looks. "The plan is to leave the motorbikes." He turned to our squad. "The squad will be divided into the HMMWVs," he said. "We will attempt to cross the slopes surrounding this valley and take refuge at the western point of the base. Hopefully that area will not be immediately open to attack. This may not be the welcome you new guys were hoping for." So I wasn’t the only person. "Hopefully by the time we have got to cover the attack will be over." Everybody fell silent. Nobody moved. The lieutenant folded his arms and waited. BOOM! A slab of rock flew from the side of the caves opening. I fell to the ground in dismay and watched the rock smash deep into the ground. I turned around and saw that Burnes too was on the ground. Shrapnel had hit him in the shoulder. "Enough fuckin' waitin' 'round!" I cried as another explosion rang from over the slopes. I lifted Burnes up and we ran to the nearest HMMWV. Soon the rest of the motorbike squad had been divided into the HMMWVs. I sat down in the back seat with Burnes. The attack seemed to be over but we were still shaken. The convoy drove on after a short wait. There was only one path over the cliffs, a narrow boggy road. The sun was pulsing ever brighter as we made our way towards the base. "You think that was the last of the mortars?" I asked Burnes who was still picking shards of metal out of his shoulder. "Hopefully. The mortar team seemed to have got to close. You'd have to be to hit this position." He responded. "Why you so calm man?" I continued. "It's normal for this base to be attacked. Khost city is lurking with insurgents." Said Burnes. After that he unslung his M1014 and placed it on his lap. "So what's the story here anyway?" I asked. "What do you mean?" "This transfer. Why the hell send a 5 man squad to pick me up? And in motorbikes?" I responded. "I don't know. There's a big transfer goin' on, these guys in the HMMWVs are from Kabul, if I'm correct." Said Burnes. "Still. Why did the lieutenant come?" I asked. "Don’t know." Burnes finished. The jeep took a turn right and continued past a cliff edge that led down to a large wall like that of a dam. Tanks, jeeps, helicopters, fighter jets. All were stored in in the area between the wall and the cliff face. One of the tanks was on fire, smoke blowed around the camp. To their right was a metal gate and a sentry building. 2 soldiers came out from the sentry building. "This is it." Burnes said. The lieutenant exited his HMMWV and walked towards the soldiers. "ID Card please." Spoke the first soldier. The lieutenant reached inside his vest's ammo pouch and produced a card the shape of a pistol mag. The soldier nodded and went back inside the building. Seconds later the gate swung upwards and the convoy continued. The ground was covered in gravel to dry up the moisture and make it less like a bog. It seemed to work. The convoy drove through another narrow road and turned right. The road suddenly took a turn downwards and the HMMWVs followed. The M1A2 was still behind them. They drove passed the vehicle yard and entered a jet hanger behind the wall. "We just gonna' park in here?" I said. "Follow the first HMMWV's our job." Said the Driver. We then exited and left the hanger. What appeared to be a small building two story building was seen ahead. "That's the base....?" I asked Burnes. "Yep. Welcome to Forward Operating Base Salerno, man." He responded. "You fuckin' kidding me?" I began "That thing's tiny." "You serious? That base runs for at least a mile back." Said Burnes. I nodded. This was the start of a new run. Three years and only now it kicks in Chapter 2-Suiting Up 9 -25AM 2/3/2007 FOB Salerno, South Eastern Khost Province, Afghanistan. Cpl. Louis Jones. ______________________________________________________________________________________________ The day before I did nothing. All the new guys just hanged around the base trying to fit in. Anything they did out of the ordinary was alien, they thought. I was right with them. The inhabitants of the camp were still shaken from yesterday's attack. When I woke up at six this morning, I was informed two soldiers had been injured in the attack. One had even lost an arm. I had breakfast in the mess hall at 6:30 and at 7AM this morning Burnes and I went out to find the bikes. The area where we left them was much drier than how it was when we departed the vehicles. How it had dried up so quick we didn't known. The place was weird. After half an hour of walking we reached the valley. The bikes were still there. It was hard to resist riding them. We must of spent about an hour speeding foward and back, up and down the valley. The broken slab of rock that had blown off when the mortar hit was also still there. The right side of it was sloped and we used it as a ramp. We were only supposed to be allowed to go out within 2 miles radius of the base, for only 1 hour. We had broken that rule. Even though we knew we had disobeyed strict orders, we still thought it was worth it. After 55 minutes of riding we got tired and began to think about going back when a MaxxPro armored vehicle emerged from the entrance to the valley. Inside it were 6 soldiers. They stopped as they saw us and exited. "What's up guys?" Burnes asked them. They all looked shaken and nervous. "What you two doing here?" The CEO responded. "We've just been out for a...a walk." I responded. "And you guys?" They were all geared up and heavily armed. None of them responded. We were about to give up when the smallest of the 6 stood up. "Yesterday, a leading commander of the Taliban insurgency, Obaidullah Akhund, was captured in Quetta, Pakistan." He took a deep breath. "The insurgents of this city have been acting up lately," he said. "We have the right to believe they had some connections to Akhund so our squad, and many others, are being sent into the city to keep an eye on things. We're worried it's gonna be much more than then what the commanders told us." He fell silent and stepped back to his squad, head bowed. I nodded as they re-entered the MRAP and left on their way past the base. After that me and Burnes didn't take much time in getting back on the bikes. We planned on riding them back to the base because it was quicker, easier, and more enjoyable than dragging them back, despite the fact we could only take one at a time. "What you think about those guys we met?" Burnes asked me as he got back on one of the bikes. He pressed down the accelarator and turned the bike's grips. Instantly we sped off. "Dunno' dude." I responded, almost shouting over the sound of the bikes. The sun was becoming clearer in the sky and breaking through the misty lines of cloud. Burnes nodded. *** "What have you two been doing out so long?" The sentry guard asked us as we dismounted from our vehicles. "You've missed the squad sorting." Neither of us said anything. We hadn't realised how long we were gone. Burnes' mouth twitched. The guard layed his eyes upon him. "Well...?" He spoke. I too, waited for a responce. I had no idea the squad sorting was today. Were we going to get into the action that soon? The guards eyes looked dead into mine, and Burnes was releived of the stare. I turned my sight to the vehicle yard and saw the tank that was destroyed in the attack. It lay there dead, a dark figure standing out as a hedious reminder of the danger each of us soldiers had gotten ourselves into. A shiver ran down my spine. "We..." I began. The guard stepped foward. "Yes?" He said, continuing his advance. "Burnes....f-fell." I said. "And the...bike he was riding, came down on him." The guard nodded slowly and then laughed. "The lieutenant won't mind you've been gone so long, or that you have lied about the reason you were gone." He said. "Really?" Burnes bursted out. The guard took no time in responding. "No bitch!" He laughed. "That guy's gonna kill you two and I'll help him if I can. You can pass but it won't be long before he finds you." "Fuck that...." Burnes and I set out again and in no time had parked the bikes in the vehicle dock and crossed the wall towards the base. We were doomed. "What time is it dude?" Burnes said softly. I checked my watch. We had been gone for 80 minutes. There was no time to get the other bikes. "Ten to 11." I responded, pulling my sleeve down. The door leading to the living quaters of the base could now be seen and we entered into a large dormitory. It was almost abandoned except for 4 soldiers watching TV at the back of the room. CNN was on. We left by another door which lead into a corridor with doors on each side, each door with a 2 metre gap between the next one. We entered the room we had slept in last night. 3 other soldiers were in the room and 2 bunk beds had been placed. "What the fuck?" I muttered. "What d'you think you guys are doing here?" The first of them, a tall, taned caucasion wearing a UCP shirt, stood up from the bed he had been sitting on. Another member of the three indicated to him that he was ready to back him, but was gestured down. "You Jones, right?" He said. I nodded, holding Burnes back. "We're your new squad." The soldier continued. My left eye twitched in Burnes direction. His face was one of dislike. I looked the soldier deep in the eye. He stepped foward. "Okay." I said before the confrontation could get physical. "And you are?" The soldier looked around at the squad as he fell back down unto his bed. "Me?" He said. I again nodded. "Staff Sergeant Conrad Garcia. I'm in charge of leading you two, and the rest of the squad, in most of our future missions in this area." He gestured for us to sit down on a couch at the end of the room. "You've seemed to personalized the place..." Burnes mumbled. We tool place at the couch and listened as the Sergeant continued. "First of all," He began, "We'll run a quick roll call." Conrad cleared his throat. "Private First Class John Taylor." He said as a slightly small pale-skinned soldier stood up. "Reporting for duty sir!" He said, giving a short salute. Conrad dissmissed him. "No need for that shit." He said,. Taylor nodded, and, looking rather embarassed, sat down waiting for the rest of the assessment. "Where did you put Taylor's profile, Mark?" Conrad asked one of the soldiers. In seconds, the Sergeant had been handed a metal clipboard holding 4 sheets of paper. He read the first and nodded to himself. "Here it is." He said, "Private First Class John Taylor, place of birth..." He ran his fingers across the sheet, "New River, Arizona. Date of birth...6th of June, 1984. Speciality, Designated Marksman." He lifted up the sheet and checked the next one. "Specialist Rank 4 David Cambell?" Conrad said inquistively despite knowing who the man was. A tall blond soldier with broad shoulders nodded. "Right 'ere sir..." He said. The Sergeant nodded and checked the profile. "You born in Selma, Calafornia?" He said, as he read the profile. Cambell nodded. "Same here..." The Sergeant noted. At this, Cambell looked up. "You serious man?" He said. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Said Conrad. Cambell laughed. "Maybe I'll see you again after this damned war is over, that is if you get out." Conrad didn't know if he was joking or not, and responded in the same air. "Or if you get out." Silence fell over the room. Conrad himself didn't know if he was joking, I guessed. He looked back down to the profile and mumbled the rest to himself. "Date of birth, 22nd of March, 1981. Speciality...Heavy Gunner." He nodded and repeated the ritual of lifting the sheet up and checking the next. "Lance Corporal Michael Burnes?" He said, and turned to Burnes who was now standing, sulking in the corner. After Burnes did'nt respond, he again ran through the details on the profile: "Place of birth, Boston Massachusets. Date of Birth, 9th of December 1988. Speciality...Rifleman." He nodded, "That only leaves one person left." He looked in my direction and read out the profile to himself. "Date of birth, 9th of October, 1982. Place of Birth, Brooklyn, NYC. Speciality, Rifleman." Suddenly an audible knock rang out through the room and Cambell opened the door. Standing there, arms folded and face grim, was Lieutenant John Sanderson. It was the first and possibly only time I saw him without his sunglasses and his dark blue eyes punctured into mine. His stare held me in place, there was no escape. "Corporal Louis Jones may I speak to you for a moment?" He said. I nodded and stepped outside. "You realise you've missed the squad sorting, Corporal?" Sanderson said, his gaze still fixed, his fist closing the door shut. "Yes sir, I've become aware of that before now." I responded. He thought over my responce and muttered what sounded like 'These fucked up new guys...'. "What were you doing while the sorting was taking place?" He continued. I stammered. What would he think if I told him the truth? And had he not realised that Burnes was gone aswell? "We were out retreaving the bikes sir." I said. He again folded his arms. "We? Who else was with you?" Said Sanderson. Now Burnes was going to get in trouble too. My heart sank. "Lance-Lance Corporal Michael Burnes." I responded. The Lietenant nodded. "Do this again." He began, "And they'll be touble. You got that?" "Yes sir." I finished. He turned his back and left down the corridor. I took a breath of relief and went back inside the room. The squad were waiting inside. Burnes was the first to step foward. "Well?" He said, "How did it go?" "Fine." I responded, "We're in the clear. For now, at least." I sat back down at the couch. "What d'you think you doing?" Sergeant Garcia asked as I began to relax. "Excuse me?" I said, not fully understanding the question. He climbed down the ladder of the top section of his bunk bed and lifted me up from my sitting position. "You do realise there's a war going on?" He said. "Uh, yeah I've come to realising that before now." I responded in an attempt to sit back down. "So what you gonna fight that war with?" He continued. I didn't say anthing, knowing what he was talking about. "So we off to the armory?" I asked. "You bet." Said Taylor as he stood up from his sitting postion. "Time I got my EBR, eh?" Burnes finally left his sulking expression and laughed. "I want a PMAG." He said, nodding approval of his own comment. At that we left the room and crossed the corridor into a small room where the staircase opened to the turrets. To our right was a wooden door that led to another dormitory. Under the scratched staircase was a metal door, behind this one was the armory. Conrad opened the door and we all stepped inside. The armory was a large metal panneled room with weapon-holding stands on each side. These of course, occupied polished rifles, some dyed in desert camoflauge. Cardboard boxes were also stored in the room, these filled with rounds of many different types; 5.56×45mm NATO, 7.62×39mm, 50 BMG, .50 Caliber, 7.62×51mm NATO, with each one in their own induviual box. There was also stocks of weapon accessories such as optical sights, flashlights, extra magazines, spare barrels, pistol grips, foregrips and bipods. The wall at the back of the room was filled with large shelfs where Sniper Rifles and Squad Automatic Weapons were held. In minutes we were checking the rifles. I had fitted my M4A1 with a RIS handguard, ACOG Scope, and AN/PEQ-2. Soon enough, the armouror arrived and told me to put the accesories back as none could were to be aquired until we were to enter active duty. I just took an M4 with a sling and left it at that. Taylor got an MK14 EBR as he was the designated marksman. He was also required to late aquire a 10x zoom scope and a bipod. Burnes also got an M4, but this had a 14 inch barrel in oppose to my 16 inch. Same goes for Conrad, him also having a 16 inch. Finally there was Cambell, the heavy gunner, who took an M240. None of us got magazines for our weapons and all we had to do with them was keep the barrels clean. By the time we were back in our tent, we had to head out to the mess hall to have lunch. Tommorow, according to Conrad (who now preffered us to call him Garcia), we were to head out to the range and conduct a short training excercise to prepare us for our deployment that was to take place in three weeks time. =Part 2= =Part 3= Gallery See Special Operations: Enduring Freedom/Gallery to find media related to this article. Category:Fan Fiction